Hidden Ones
by RisingStar313
Summary: The rich heiress in disguise, the geeky son of the mayor, the long-haired dreamer who scarcely leaves the house, and the clever foster boy longing for a real family. Under a series of unlikely circumstances, the four of them are brought together to commiserate through family clashes, popularity, rivalry and gym class, all while putting on the best Shakespeare production ever.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is, the Big 4!**

**Meaning a big 4 crossover... but also my fourth fanfic!**

**Yes, yes, I should be updating Stormy Weather and Wallflower right now, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.**

**Quick explanation of the title: "Hidden Ones" is a song by Missy Higgins, which I highly recommend you listen to because it is wonderful. This fic doesn't completely follow the song, but there's correlation between the ideas.  
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**Without further ado, enjoy!**

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"Are you sure about this, Merida?" she asks for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Because we can still homeschool you…"

I groan. "Agh, Mum!"

She raises her arms in surrender. "Fine, fine. I just want you to be sure that this is what's best for you."

"It is." I sling my brown leather bag over my shoulder, stick a pastry in my mouth, and grab an apple on my way out the door. I wave to Mum, and I'm out.

A smile escapes onto my face as I rev up my black Jeep, whom I dubbed Angus. I take another bite of pastry before pulling out of the driveway. Our house (if you can even call it that; it's more like a castle) is on the outskirts of town, so the drive to school takes about half an hour. Which, of course, gives me plenty of time to think.

Perhaps I should explain. In short, my family is rich. My father, Fergus Dunbroch, is the CEO of Bear King Systems. My mother Eleanor is a co-founder, and is usually in charge of making sure all runs smoothly. As for me, well, I'm the heiress. I'm expected to finish high school, go to Harvard or Yale or somewhere, and eventually I'll become… well, my mother.

I've definitely got jitters about starting school. I haven't gone to a semi-normal school since I was twelve, before we left Scotland and moved to the United States. Since then, I've gone to tiny private schools with other wealthy kids. Most of them were snobbish and shallow, so this time I opted out. My whole family wanted a change of scenery, which is why we now live in rural Pennsylvania. I had the option of going to a private school in Philadelphia, being homeschooled, or attending the school in the nearby town of Burgess.

I'm pulling into Corona College Prep just as the other students start to arrive. I've been to the building once before, so I know where to park and go to the lobby. Then I pop into the office.

"May I help you?" The lady behind the smiles rosily, peering over bright blue reading glasses. I nod, explaining that I still need my locker assignment and class schedule.

"Ah, yes," she chirps, "You must be Miss Dunbroch."

"Merida, yeah."

She hands me a paper from a file drawer. "I understand you missed the schedule pickup because you were out of town."

"Yeah. We only arrived from New York three days ago."

"I see. Now, do you know where you're going, or would you like me to show you around?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

My first class, European History, is easy enough to find. It's on the first floor, just around the corner from the lobby. I grab a random seat by the aisle. The girl next to me looks over, and her critical eyes glance over my wild red hair, plain green shirt, old jeans, and well-worn sneakers. She tries to hide her expression of distaste, unsuccessfully. A part of me wants to be hurt, but a larger part is laughing. It's refreshing not to be the rich heiress for once.

Suddenly, something piping hot splashes onto my lap, and I let out a small, undignified cry. A scrawny boy with auburn hair and thick-framed glasses is holding a coffee cup, the contents of which is now partially on my jeans. His eyes grow to the size of dinner plates.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry… here, let me…" He scrambles over to a paper towel dispenser, and starts wiping off the floor, muttering about how he must have tripped over another kid's backpack. He tentatively hands me a couple of paper towels to dry off my jeans. I'm tempted to scold him for being careless, but he's already flustered, and some of the kids in the front are laughing at him. I get the vibe that he's not exactly popular around here.

The only seat available now is the one directly behind me, and as he slides in, I turn around and say as gently as I can, "Be a wee bit more careful next time."

His cheeks are flushing violently, but he nods, and again says, "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's alright, no harm done. What's your name, lad?"

The boy mumbles something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"Hiccup." His eyes are downcast, and he sinks low into his seat, with his arms folded protectively over his middle.

"I'm Merida. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah."

I figure this is the most I'm going to get out of the shy and pitifully small boy today, so I turn back to the front and face the teacher, Mr. Legs. He gives us the traditional first-day-of-school speech, and a rundown of the course. I notice that most of the kids seem to know each other pretty well, and that many are looking at me curiously. I'm not surprised. It's not a large town, and I doubt they get new students very often. When the bell rings at the end of the period, everyone swarms the door. I hang back, waiting for it to pass, as does Hiccup. Everyone seems to avoid him like the plague.

The next three periods, Biology, Pre-Calc and Health, pass without enthusiasm. So far I've made zero friends, so when lunchtime finally rolls around, I grab a sandwich and an apple from the line and take them to the library. Being the first day, it's virtually unoccupied, save for one boy. I can't see his face very well under his hoodie, but all he has to eat is a cookie. He is leaning over a book, eyes scanning the pages with great interest.

He doesn't seem to notice me, and if he does, he doesn't seem to care. I sit down and pull out _Robin Hood._ I've read it five times already, but it's been my favorite book for years. Robin is so brave and strong of heart, and I think of him as my friend. Not to mention his talent for archery. His story is what inspired me to take it up myself.

I read as I eat, with the occasional smile escaping onto my lips as I review my favorite parts of the story. For a moment, in the corner of my eye, I think I see the boy in the hoodie look up at me, but as soon as I lift my head, he is back in his own book. When it's five minutes before the bell, I pack up and look at my schedule. My next class is Latin, on the second floor. After a quick stop at the loo, I trot up the stairs and down the hall to the classroom.

Three other people are already there when I arrive. Two of them are twins that I remember from my history class. I think their names are Ruff and Tuff, though I'm not sure who's who. They are in the middle of an argument, shoving and lightly punching each other. The third is a girl in a pretty purple dress, with blonde hair that falls to her knees. She looks nervous being near the quarreling twins, and mutters something that sounds like, "Ruffians."

She smiles at me, and I smile back. "Hi," she says timidly. "What's your name?"

"Merida. Yours?"

"Rapunzel. I've never seen you here before."

"Yeah. I'm new." I'm grateful that someone is finally talking to me for reasons other than spilt coffee.

"Cool! I can never be sure. I don't really know a lot of people here. For the most part, I'm homeschooled, but I have to take Latin, P.E. and art class at Corona."

"Why homeschooling?" I know it's probably rude to be so blunt, but Rapunzel doesn't seem bothered.

She shrugs. "My mother thinks it's best for me."

The conversation reaches a lull, so I venture, "You have beautiful hair."

Rapunzel blushes nervously. "Oh. Thanks. I love yours, too. Curly hair is so pretty."

"Thanks."

The other students have now filed in, and the teacher signals that class is starting. The period passes like all the others. As we're leaving at the end, Rapunzel approaches me.

"What do you have next?"

"Um…" I look back at my schedule. "P.E. You?"

"Me too!" she says brightly. We walk together to the gymnasium, making small talk. When we arrive, a very meaty man with a prosthetic arm and leg tells us to sit down on the bleachers. As soon as the bell rings, he introduces himself as Coach Gobber. I zone out when he goes over the rules and procedures and gaze about the room. Looking at the other students, I recognize about half of them, including Hiccup and the boy from the library. Both sit apart from the other students. Hiccup looks like he wants to throw up. Library Boy's hood still hides his face, and his hands are in the pocket.

I turn my attention back to Coach Gobber. "Starting tomorrow," he begins, "you need a change of clothes for this class. That means a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. We'll be doing fitness testing this week, which includes running the mile." There is a collective groan among the students. "That will take place on Friday. And don't skip, thinking you'll get out of it, because you won't." He then goes over the unit schedule for the semester, which includes soccer, American football, basketball, volleyball, and, to my excitement, archery.

Once the coach finishes his lecture, there are only ten minutes left in the period, so he lets everyone just sit and talk. Rapunzel leaves to go to the bathroom, so I sit alone and observe the surroundings. A loud and brutish boy sits with his friends in the front row of bleachers. I recognize him as one of the lads making fun of Hiccup earlier. It's clear to the casual observer that he is rude and very arrogant, and he makes several attempts to hit on three different girls within the small time span. I listen for his name, and all I get is "Snotlout." I assume it's a nickname, but one can never be sure. I note the faces of all those joining him, to make sure I don't associate myself with such people.

"Hey, Red!"

Speak of the devil. Making my tone as ornery as possible, I turn to Snotlout and reply, "I have a name, you know. Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if your legs hurt from running through my dreams all night."

Perfect. Just what I need.

"Speak to me when you have something intelligent to say." A couple of his buddies chuckle at his expense. "Not that I see that happening anytime soon." This earns me a collective _ooohhh._

Snotlout narrows his eyes, but turns away. I sigh, slightly disgusted. On the other side of the bleachers, Library Boy is laughing quietly. He looks at me, and I smile. He looks surprised, but smiles back.

Rapunzel returns, sliding in beside me. "Did I miss anything?"

I shrug. "Snotlout just hit on me."

She wrinkles her nose. "Ugh. Sorry you had to go through that. He tried that with me, too, in Latin last year. He'll lay off eventually." I nod, sincerely hoping that she's right.

The bell rings, and I wave goodbye to Rapunzel as I depart for my next class, English. It's just a pop down the hall, and I'm the first to the room. The teacher, Mr. Sanderson, gives me a warm smile. He is short, and a little on the chubby side, but I don't think I've ever seen a kinder face in my life. I take a seat near the back of the room, having learned earlier that the tremendous volume of my hair tends to block the vision of my fellow classmates.

Over the next few minutes, the other students file in. A girl clad all in black sits next to me and introduces herself as Mavis. The quarrelling twins enter the room, followed by an enormous boy with facial hair and a unicorn t-shirt, a redheaded girl in a gray knit cap, and several others. The last two to come in are Hiccup and Library Boy, whose name I still don't know.

Mr. Sanderson steps to the front of the room. "Welcome to English III. As juniors, I'm assuming you're well accustomed to high school English classes so far. Am I correct?" A few unenthusiastic yes's sound from the crowd. "Well," he continues, "I want you to forget all about that.

"This class is going to be unlike anything you've experienced before. In this room, you will see your souls revealed and your dreams come alive. You will learn to think for yourself and embrace your true potential." There are more than a few eyebrows raised. "Don't think I don't know you're skeptical. I'm quite used to that by now," he tags on, undaunted. "Now, for role call." He goes back to the desk.

"Aster Bunnymund!" A boy that I hadn't seen come in replies, "Here." The accent sounds Australian. He has shaggy ash-brown hair, and is muscular, but lean.

"Vladimir Corn!" The large boy in the unicorn shirt grunts and raises his hand.

"Mavis Dracula!"

"Present."

"Merida Dunbroch!"

"I'm here," I call.

"Jack Frost!"

Library Boy silently raises his hand. _Hmm. Jack Frost, huh? Interesting name._

"Hiccup Haddock!"

There is a moment's delay. Then Hiccup looks up, realizing his name has been called. "Oh. Um, here." He then goes back to being bent over a brown leather sketchbook. I can't see what he's doing, but he appears much focused.

Mr. Sanderson goes through the rest of the list, and I take note of who's who. Violet Parr is a girl with straight raven hair and a dark purple sweater. Roxanne Richie had a brown pixie cut and a pretty red dress. The girl in the knit cap is Pippa, and the twins are Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston. A burly guy with large hands, overalls and a red t-shirt is called Ralph Wrecker, but his eyes are kind, and I don't believe he'd hurt a fly.

Unlike my other classes, Mr. Sanderson doesn't lay down rules or procedures. Instead, he tells us all to stand up.

"Let's face facts," he says. "It's 8th period. By now, most likely, almost all of you just want to go home." Murmurs of agreement rise among the students. "Everybody raise their arms." With hesitation, we comply.

"Now, stretch to the right." He demonstrates, and the class follows. We do the same to the left, then forward. Then he has us roll our shoulders and stretch out our arms before sitting back down. I hear contented sighs, whispers, and a couple groans.

"Right then," says Mr. Sanderson. "Let's begin."

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**Like it? Review! Don't like it? Also review and tell me what to improve! I'm open to pretty much anything at this point.**

**Thank you, have a lovely day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Wow... one chapter, and already 8 reviews! I didn't expect to get so much positive feedback so quickly! You guys make me feel loved :)**

**Since I had a lot of comments about this, there are a couple things I want to clear up. First off, as far as pairings are concerned, there will be Jackunzel involved. I will neither confirm nor deny anything else. Second, when i mention non-Big Four characters, they are just filler classmates and will not be important to the plot. They're sort of like extras in my movie.  
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**A big thank-you to all who reviewed, and without further ado... Chapter 2!**

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**Jack POV**

When I walk in the door, I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the couch. I lay there for a minute, completely still. The house is empty, and should be for another two hours.

Rather than remain a couch potato for all eternity, I go to the living room and take out my easel. I've been working on this oil painting for a couple weeks so far in my spare time. It's supposed to be a frozen lake in the wintertime, the ground covered with snow, and the moon glowing overhead. It's probably halfway finished or so, but there's still a lot of work to be done.

Art takes my mind off everything. It only feels like a few minutes have gone by when I look at the clock and see that it's been almost an hour. My stomach rumbles, so I meander to the kitchen for some food.

Suddenly a small creature runs under my legs. I yelp in surprise and stumble forward, but manage to catch myself on a chair. A small, pointy-headed dog looks innocently up at me, wagging his tail. I sigh.

"Why are you always underfoot?" I stand upright again, but dread fills my stomach as I remove my hands from the chair. Resting on it is my foster brother's white cross-country jacket, now smudged with blue oil paint.

"Oh, no…" I hastily grab the jacket and start rinsing it out with mineral spirits, trying to get the paint out. _He's going to kill me if this gets stained…_

When it looks relatively clean, I toss it in the dryer, figuring that by the time he gets home from practice, it'll be done and all evidence will have been erased.

I pop a Debussy CD into the stereo and pull out _Peter Pan_ from my bookbag, while munching on some pita chips. Something starts to smell weird in the air, but I wave it off. I read for about ten minutes. Then I hear the front door open.

_Crap. _ A heavy bag makes a thud as it hits the floor. _Crap crap crap._

I turn off the stereo and try to look as innocent as possible. My foster brother, Aster, comes around the corner, wearing the usual expression of annoyance he gets when we're together. I believe I have a special place on the list of people that generally aggravate him.

"Hey," I say nonchalantly. "You're home early."

In a light Australian accent, he replies, "Yeah. Coach gave us a short practice today."

"Mmm." It's more of a grunt of acknowledgment than a response, but that's pretty normal for us. Aster's lived here longer than I have, and I feel like he thinks I'm invading his territory with my presence. Our foster parents, the St. North's, took in Aster when he was twelve. I didn't move in until I was fourteen. Aster and I don't quite see eye-to-eye, but Nicholas and Toothiana are cool, not to mention the only people who've kept me for more than a few months.

When Aster retreats to the kitchen, I sniff the air. Something definitely smells like it's burning.

"Jack?" he calls. "Have you seen my cross-country jacket? I need it for team pictures tomorrow." Oh, man. Here we go.

"Um… well… funny thing about that…" Aster frowns and sniffs the air. He looks toward the laundry room, where a plume of smoke is drifting out the door. His eyes widen, and he dashes in. I follow.

"Hey, what's that—" Aster stops short when he looks in the transparent dryer door and sees a small fire inside. "Jack," he says slowly and flatly, "where is my jacket?" I wince and point at the dryer.

He curses and runs to the bathroom, returning moments later with a bucket of water. He throws open the dryer door and douses the fire. It is extinguished quickly, but the carnage is clear. I take a wire hanger and use the hook to pick up a charred, ruined cross-country team jacket. Aster grabs it, scowls deeply, and looks at me, but he doesn't say anything at first. Then, in a very low voice, he says, "You make a mess of everything." He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, still clutching the remains of his jacket.

I groan, leaning my face against the wall. Luckily the smoke alarm hasn't gone off, but I open the window to let in fresh air and let out the smoke. I really messed up this time.

It's not another one of my pranks, like that time I experimentally put Aster's Easter eggs in the freezer, or the incident with the spray cheese. Sure, it was probably stupid of me to put a jacket soaked with mineral spirits in the dryer, and I probably should have seen this coming. But I didn't mean for it to happen. And I'm definitely not looking forward to explaining this to Nicholas and Toothiana…

I walk back to the living room, where Aster is sitting in a chair with his cell phone. "I have to text the coach and tell him what happened," he explains. I swallow. Here it goes.

"Look," I say, "I'm sorry. I-I didn't meant for this to happen."

"Well it did." He doesn't even look up. His tone is cold.

"So that's it then? You won't even accept my apology?"

He sighs, and says nothing. _Great. Awesome._

I go back to the couch to read, running my pale fingers nervously through my snow-white hair.

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"So… how _exactly_ did the dryer catch on fire again?"

Toothiana doesn't look at much angry as she does confused. I go through the whole story again, making sure to speak clearly. It's no use hiding anything from her, as she always figures it out in the end. Nicholas is standing in the corner, with his face turned away from me. I catch a brief glimpse of his expression. Is he… chuckling?

When I finish, Toothiana sighs. "Don't worry about it, Jack. It was an accident." She turns to Aster. "What did the coach say about it?"

"He says there are a couple extras, so I can take one of those, but I need to pay for the one that got destroyed." Aster glares at me.

"Alright, alright, fine," I say, holding up my hands in surrender. "I'll pay for the jacket. Are you happy now?"

"Frankly, no. All you do is mess up my stuff. What'll it be next? My shoes? My homework? My computer? Maybe you'll just burn down the whole house next time."

There is a stony silence, until Toothiana says, "Aster. Enough."

"No, no," I say. "The Easter Bunny's right."

"Wha-What did you call me?"

"Easter Bunny. That's your name, isn't it?"

He gets in really close to my face. "My name is Bunnymund. _Aster Bunnymund_. At least I'm not some freak."

_Freak._

The word hits me like a hard slap in the face. It echoes in my head with every whisper I've heard over the years.

_Freak._ _Weird. Abnormal. Different. Strange._

I stand my ground for a few seconds, but then I back off and go to my room, not speaking to or looking at anyone. Nicholas reaches out a hand as if to stop me, but I push through. When I reach my room, I throw off my hood and stare at myself in the mirror. Deathly pale skin. Icy blue eyes. Snow white hair.

Yeah. I'd say "freak" is a pretty accurate statement.

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The art teacher is explaining our first project for the year. I'm not really listening. I think it has something to do with creating a visual representation of your greatest dream. Most of the students just look bored, though one girl is listening intently. Her hair catches my eye. It is a long blonde braid, and when I say long, I mean _long._ If she were standing up, I'm sure it would hit her knees.

When our teacher is done talking, he turns us loose to brainstorm for our artwork. I pick a table in the far corner and pull out my sketchbook. _Think, Jack. What's your dream?_ I'm not so sure I have one. Years have taught me that dreams are a waste of time.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

I look up, and the blonde girl is standing over me across the table. Her big green eyes are vibrant and kind.

"Uh, no. Go ahead," I reply. She smiles at me and takes a seat.

"I'm Rapunzel, by the way. What's your name?"

"Jack." My voice sounds sort of flat and strange. I suppose that happens when you're not used to talking to people at school.

For ten minutes I stare at a blank page. I've got nothing. Briefly, I glance at Rapunzel. She's already sketching out a mock-up of an image. I can't quite tell what it is, but it looks like a bunch of little lights shining on a moonlit night. They're not stars, but they're something that glows brightly.

She notices me looking and blushes. "They're supposed to be the lights that shine in the next town over once a year. I've always wanted to see them. It's always on the same day, my birthday… Sorry. Never mind." She flushes again and looks back down.

"It's fine," I tell her. "What about the lights on your birthday?"

Rapunzel shrugs. "I don't know. I always see them from my window, and something… something inside makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, they're meant for me." Again, she looks down. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No. Not at all." I am completely earnest when I say it.

She seems grateful for that. Then she glances at my blank page. At first she says nothing, but when another ten minutes pass and I'm still just sitting there, she puts down her pencil and folds her arms on the table. She looks me in the eye.

"Come on. Haven't you ever had a dream?"

For a moment I don't know what to say. I'm trapped in her stare, and it feels as though those bright green eyes are delving into my soul. I sigh, and break away from her gaze.

"Once."

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**-E**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Howdy, friends! Geez, sorry that took so long. I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving (if you celebrate Thanksgiving, that is...).**

**Big thank-you's to unicupcake123, koryandrs, and Guest (you know who you are) for their reviews!**

**I'll just cut right to it.**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine.**

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**Hiccup POV**

"Ouch!" I curse and grab my foot, which has made unfortunate contact with a fire hydrant. That's what I get for spacing out again. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. I'm the biggest klutz in town.

This is Burgess. It's twelve miles north of Rural and a few miles south of Quaint. It's located solidly on the Small Town Circuit. My town. In a word, sturdy. It's been here for 300 years, but every single public building is new. We have fishing, apple picking, hunting, and a charming view of the countryside. The only problem is the rivalries. Some towns have friendly competition. We have full-on war.

But more on that later.

When I reach the town square, the mayor is at the podium. This large company donated to our library, something about the CEO moving just outside town and wanting to do something nice, blah, blah, blah. I'm not a stickler for details about these things. Anyway, they gave away 30 computers and built a whole new tech area. The construction is finally done, and is being unveiled today.

Naturally, the mayor is giving a speech. When he finishes, he welcomes another man I don't recognize. The first thing I notice is that he's wearing a kilt.

_Huh. Interesting fashion choice._

When the man speaks, it is with a thick Scottish accent. Then I realize he's the CEO of Bear King Systems, the company who donated the library add-on. Since I'm not a huge fan of speeches, I scan the crowd. First I recognize Snotlout, the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, Vladimir, and…

_Astrid._

Don't get me wrong. I'm fully aware that she's _way_ out of my league. But I can dream, can't I? With her fierce blue eyes and silky blonde hair pulled into a braid, she's beautiful without even trying. And somehow, that just doubles the effect.

A fiery red mass catches my eye. I then recognize it as hair, belonging the new girl, Merida. I still feel a little sick to my stomach when I think about spilling my coffee on her on the first day of school. I'm just a master at first impressions.

Sighing, I stick my hands in my pockets and take a couple steps back.

That's my first mistake.

My scrawny body somehow manages to knock down a Bear King Systems Inc. sign, which has a domino effect on the line of flags set up, leading toward the new library addition. One flag catches on the coversheet, pulling it down to reveal the building. That's only the beginning. I watch in horror as the very large sheet hits the framework over the stage. Apparently, either the frame is very light, or the sheet is very heavy, because the frame topples over with a _CRASH._ The CEO is still standing there, with a banner draped over his head. It doesn't appear anyone's been hit by the frame, but almost the entire crowd has hit the deck. Which leaves me, standing there, staring at the cloud of dust and sparking light fixtures, wishing I could disappear.

I can feel a large shadow looming over me. When I turn around, I'm not at all surprised to see the mayor, glaring down at me. He's probably five times my size, at least, with a voluminous red beard and ponytail. He's scowling with anger and disappointment, and I'm certain that I'm about to get it.

Oh, and there's one more thing I should mention.

"Sorry, Dad."

The other kids call at me as I'm being dragged away by the collar.

"Nice going."

"Good one, Useless."

"I've never seen anyone mess up that badly. That helped!"

Sarcastically, I mutter, "Thank you, thank you, I was trying." Before any further skirmish can result, my dad pulls me up the road to the house.

"It's not like the last few times, Dad! If you'd just—"

He releases me, and sighs deeply. "Stop. Just—stop." I obey, knowing that it is pointless to argue. "Every time you step outside, disaster falls. Do you think Mr. Dunbroch appreciated that little incident?" I cock my head at the name. For some reason, it rings a bell in my head, but I can't remember why. "It was very generous of him to donate this new library addition to the town. And how do we repay him? By dropping a banner on his head?"

"I messed up. I'm sorry."

"It's just—you need to stop all… this."

"You just gestured to all of me."

He sighs again. Then he sits down on the couch, rubbing his temples. I take that as a sign to go to my room. I pad silently up the stairs, take the first door on the right, and flop down on the bed. Glancing at the clock, I see that I have forty-five minutes until I have to be back at school for football practice.

With a seven-minute bike ride to school, I figure that gives me half an hour to chill. I pull out some homework, and try to work my way through it, but my eyes glaze over pretty quickly. Not feeling inspired to work on any of my designs or projects, I resort to listening to indie music and staring at the ceiling.

The time passes slowly as my mind lays numb. I decide to leave a little early for practice. Maybe Gobber will need help with something beforehand. I throw my satchel over my shoulder, hop on my bike, and I'm on my way. Avoiding the scene of the new library, I dart down side streets until I reach the grassy park area surrounding the school. Something black moves in the corner of my eye. I turn my head to look.

Mistake.

I don't realize there's someone in front of me until I'm practically on top of them. Luckily, I have time to swerve my bike out of the way and topple into the grass. The mysterious stranger in a blue hoodie jogs over.

"Whoa—you okay?"

Grimacing, I nod. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I got distracted by something, and…" I swallow, embarrassed. Then again, things like this aren't all that unusual for me. I expect the guy to just walk away, but instead, he offers a hand to help me up. With some hesitation, I take it.

Now that I'm on the same level (sort of—he's still several inches taller than me), I can somewhat see his face under his blue hood. I recognize him as Jack Frost. In a smallish school like Corona College Prep, almost everyone has a basic idea of who everyone else is, especially the ones that are in any way unusual. That applies to me, being the town klutz and son of the mayor. It also applies to Jack Frost.

From what I understand, he's a foster kid who moved in with the St. North's two years ago. That in itself wasn't as particularly interesting. It's mostly the other part that had people buzzing for a while. His hair is completely white, paired with pale skin and icy blue eyes. I think he's albino or something. The weird part is, the look kind of works for him. Anyway, he sort of keeps to himself, so no one knows much about him. I don't think I've even heard him speak until now.

"Thanks," I mutter, picking up my bike.

"Don't worry about it." I think he's smirking under his hood, but not mockingly. If anything, he simply looks amused, but in a friendly way. As I mount my bike, he gives a small wave and turns away. I continue on my way to practice. My knee is a little sore where I fell, as is my elbow. But that's nothing new. Just some new bruises to add to the collection, right?

The first of the football players are arriving when I roll in. I spot Gobber, wave, and lock up my bike on the chain-link fence. Gobber's an old family friend. He and my dad were friends in high school, when Dad was the star of the football team and the wrestling team. Unfortunately, being the water boy is the closest I'll ever get to following in those footsteps.

"About time you showed up," he says as I jog over. "Put out these cones about five feet apart, will ya?" I nod and go out to the field. As I set up the cones, I can hear the distinctly loud and obnoxious voice of my charming cousin, Snotlout. I'm not paying attention to the words, though I'm guessing it has to do with either girls or working out. Possibly both.

When I finish my task, I go to my post by the water cooler and start filling bottles. The rest of the players trickle in, and when all are present, Gobber gathers them for a pep talk.

"All right, men. The game against Pitchiner High is in three weeks, and I need you all in tip-top shape. Consider these next two games a practice round, but remember to still wear your game face. Work on those plays. I need you to eat, sleep and breathe this stuff. Then in three weeks, we get back that trophy. In three weeks, we win!" There is a collective manly cheer at this. "Now, get out on that field, and I want to see you weave between those cones twice each. Make sure you hustle. Break!"

They all run out to field, trying to look super-intense. I roll my eyes. This happens every year. The Pitchiner Dragons have been our arch-rivals for as long as anyone can remember. Neither team has had much of a winning streak over the last 50 years. It sort of goes back and forth, but last year and the year before, the Dragons have taken the trophy. This year, of course, the plan is to get it back.

I'm a little fuzzy on how the whole thing started, but our town of Burgess and their town of town of Kosmotis just have it out for each other. The football rivalry alone is practically equal to that of Ohio State and Michigan. But ours encompasses the entire town, and I mean the _whole town._ The largest battle of the year occurs at the county fair in late October and early November. We're better at baking, they're better at barrel-racing, etc. All that fun stuff. Football is the biggest of the competitions, though. We're like the Capulets and Montagues.

I twiddle my thumbs as the team practices, with the occasional player coming by for a bottle of water. Snotlout squirts some of it on my head. Being used to this sort of thing, I don't even bat an eye.

Along the fence behind the field, I spot Merida and her ever-flaming hair. She's jogging, but she must see me as well, because she waves, and I wave back. So far, I've gone the rest of the week without spilling anything else on her. We sometimes exchange remarks in class, which is a new one for me. I'm not used to people being nice to me. Wow. That sounds pathetic, but I guess it's true.

Finally practice ends, and I get to go home. I slip out the fence before any of the players have packed up their bags, hoping to get home as soon as possible. The sun is just barely starting to set, spreading a fine layer of orange light in the blue sky. I ride my bike the fast way this time, straight through the center of town. At least they've cleaned up the mess by the library now.

_Stupid, clumsy, useless._

I hear wheels behind me, but I don't realize who it is until an entire gallon of water splashes over my head, soaking through both my brown flannel shirt and green v-neck.

"Loser!" yells Snotlout out the window, as his buddies laugh wildly. I groan and pull over to the side of the street to wring out my shirt, which clings to my toothpick-sized frame, and wipe off my glasses. Real nice, guys. What do they expect me to do, melt?

I ride home as quickly as possible, shivering slightly from the cold water in the night air. Burgess always gets chilly early in the season, but tonight is unusually so. When I get inside, my dad raises an eyebrow slightly at my wet appearance, but says nothing.

In my room, I change hastily into dry clothes, then hang the wet ones on the shower rod. For about an hour I surf around Netflix, but nothing is all that appealing to me. It's Friday, so I don't technically _have_ to do my homework, but I do it anyway. Once I've muddled through a few pages, I pull out my notebook. But rather than open it up and start sketching, I simply lay down on the bed with it sitting atop my chest. I close my eyes, and with the day I've had, it doesn't take long to drift off.

* * *

**Please review if you have questions/comments/suggestions/criticisms/etc. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys, guess what? I'm still alive! And with another chapter, just for you!  
**

**It's really cold here, as I'm sure many of my American readers can relate. Last time I checked, the temperature was -8 (Fahrenheit). Therefore, school was cancelled (YAY) and there is ice on my window. On the inside. Yeah.**

**[Don't think I don't know this is you, Jack...]**

**If anyone present has not seen the full trailer for HTTYD 2... do it. Do it right now.**

**Many thanks to changeofheart505, Goddess of Imaginary, randomobsession123, koryandrs, DD, live laugh play music, the Ocean broke it, and 2black2butterfly for their beautiful reviews!**

**That is all.**

* * *

**Rapunzel POV**

_ His blue eyes are captivating. They are like a spectrum of ice, crystallized forever inside. Combined with his snowy white locks, he has the look of one who carries an old soul. There is a certain wisdom, but also a sadness._

"Miss Gothel?"

Whoops. Spacing out in class again. "Yes, sir?"

"Can you tell me, in order, the ten most famous impressionists of all time?"

"Oh… yes. Monet, Degas, Manet, Pissarro, Cézanne, Renoir, Bazille, Sisley, Morisot, and… Cassatt."

The teacher nods approvingly. I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm lucky for reading so many books, otherwise I'd be screwed on multiple occasions. But of course, there's not much else for me to do at home, other than chores, baking, and painting my bedroom walls.

Hopefully Jack, my art table partner, didn't notice me staring at him. That would be _awkward_. I promise I'm not creepy, I just really love people's eyes. They're just so _beautiful, _especially his. Whoever said eyes were windows to the soul was absolutely right.

Also, Jack intrigues me. He doesn't talk much to anyone, but I've managed to open him up a little, even though we've only been in school for a little more than a week. Getting people to speak is a skill I pride myself on. He's a good guy, but a lot of people around here don't pay enough attention to realize it. To them, he's just another oddity, a conversational trend that had its peak, then slowly faded out of style.

When our history lecture is over, we're free to work on our "dream" project. Excitedly, I grab mine off the drying rack. It's a little more than halfway done now, and I think it's coming along quite nicely. I had the idea to put some shimmery gold nail polish over the acrylic paint on the lights, to make them glow in contrast to the dark sky. Trying to paint the lights makes me nervous, I must admit. Capturing their ethereal gleam is quite the task.

I sneak a glance over at Jack. He's using watercolor pencils as his medium, and it seems he's creating a group of people, like a family. There's a man and a woman, a teenage boy, and a little girl. He catches me looking, and clears his throat. Embarrassed, I look away and focus on my own work.

We work in silence for the rest of class, while the other tables burst with conversation. Listening is kind of fun. One girl, a stereotypical cheerleader, is whining to her friend about how her parents grounded her and took away her smart phone. ("I seriously can't handle this for another day. You don't even understand. It's, like, _torture._") A couple that I presume to be boyfriend and girlfriend are discussing plans for Friday night. ("How about dinner, then the football game? What's that one place you like?" "Piada. And please, can we skip the game? The Vikings will probably lose, anyway." "But… okay, fine. Dinner and a movie?") Four girls are raving about the Justin Timberlake concert last weekend, a few kids are discussing the upcoming biology test, and two macho guys are talking sports and cars.

I glance at the clock, and I'm surprised to see that there's only five minutes left before the bell. I gather up my supplies and dash to the sink, to rinse them off. On my way back to the supply cabinets, however, my shoe makes unfortunate contact with a puddle.

Clean brushes clatter to the floor, as do I. Groaning in frustration, I start to push myself up, when a pale hand extends in front of me. I take it, and mumble the words, "Thank you." Jack smiles, and picks up the brushes, then hands them back to me. Then he continues on his way to the sink, like nothing happened.

* * *

I hurry home as quickly as possible, in order to arrive before my mother. Today is the day, I've decided, I'm going to finally ask her. My school bag is deposited in the corner, and I make sure that the counters and tables are clean, and that her favorite chair is ready to go. Then I go upstairs, to my room, and wait.

When I say room, I mean tower. Pretty close to it, anyway. It's a mostly circular shape, with a pointed ceiling. There is a spiral staircase leading up to a rounded door. It's three stories high, located in the back corner of the house, facing away from the road. The house itself is set back into the woods, away from the street.

Don't get me wrong. I love my room. Over the years, it's been adorned with countless paintings on the walls, and I'm still finding new spaces to use. I've lived most of my life in this room. I do all my lessons at my desk against the east wall. I read on the window seat to the west. My bed and wardrobe are lined up against the south side, and the north is completely covered with art.

I plop down on the window seat and continue reading my _Harry Potter_ book (for the eighth time… but hey, who's counting?). After a while, I take a casual glance out the window, and I'm startled to see someone outside. Wait… make that _two _someones.

The first is a short, scrawny boy with shaggy auburn hair and thick black glasses. I think it's the mayor's son… Henry? Howard? No… Hiccup. He is clad in a simple green t-shirt, a corduroy vest, dark jeans and gray converse. A sketchbook, or something of the like, is tucked under one arm.

The other someone isn't a person. It's a black dog. Most likely it's a mutt of some sort, and it looks almost wolf-like in some aspects, but its ears are floppy and rounded, and its facial features are not particularly fierce. I can't even see its teeth. After a moment, I also realize it only has three legs.

Hiccup slowly and carefully approaches the dog, holding out a hamburger patty. At first the dog is hesitant, but then it comes closer, curious. Quickly, it grabs the hamburger and wolfs it down (no pun intended).

_What's that all about?_

I'm suddenly torn away by the sound of the door opening and closing downstairs. "Rapunzel?"

"Coming, Mother!" Leaving the scene of Hiccup and the black dog behind, I fly down the steps and into the living room, where my mother is waiting for me. I take her coat and hang it in the closet, then she gives me a hug.

"How was your day, dear?" she asks me.

"Oh, fine. The usual. And you?"

"Good, good. I might have to get rid of the new intern. He's completely incompetent. Honestly, he can't even keep my regular coffee order straight, and that's never been a problem before. Ugh. Some people."

"Right…" I clear my throat. "So, um, Mother, I was just wondering—"

"Rapunzel, darling," she says, interrupting me, as she checks out her new facelift in the mirror. "I've been running around all day. Would you mind rubbing my feet for me?"

"Oh! Of course!" I comply, as always. It could be worse. My mother gets pedicures regularly, so her feet aren't gross or anything. Besides, I need her agreeable if I'm to ask her the question that's been gnawing at me for years.

I quickly sit her down, grab my stool, and start massaging. A couple times I try to butt in, but she shushes me and closes her eyes, leaning back. I hope she doesn't notice that I cut it off a little shorter than usual. As soon as I'm done, I kneel by her side. "So, Mother, I was just wondering… Well, I'm sixteen now, and I kinda figured I'm old enough now… actually I've probably been old enough for a couple years… but I've never really asked…"

"Please don't mumble, dear. It's very difficult to understand you." She sighs deeply, which doesn't boost my confidence much.

I clear my throat again. "Sorry. So… I guess what I was wondering is… can I go into town?"

Mother chuckles at me, but looks a little nervous. "What?"

"I want you to take me into town… you know, do some shopping, see a movie, maybe eat out in a restaurant, see people outside of school…"

"No!" she snaps, quickly. I step back, surprised by her harsh reaction. Then her expression softens. "I've told you before, my flower. It's not safe for you to go out."

"What could be so dangerous? It's not a very big town. There's only, what, 2500 people in it? What are you so afraid of?"

"There are some things you cannot understand, Rapunzel." Her expression is dark and serious, but I'm too frustrated to care.

"Please, Mother! I've never gotten to pick out my own clothes, I hardly ever leave the house, I'm not even allowed to have friends!"

"Enough, Rapunzel—"

"I hardly ever ask for anything Mother, please—"

"Enough!" She says it so forcefully, I stumble backward. "You are not going into town. You are not leaving this house except for school. That is final."

I study the soft lavender color of my toenails. "Yes, Mother." I turn away to retreat to my bedroom.

Just as I reach the stairs, my mother calls after me. "I'm only trying to protect you."

I look back, just for a second. "I know."

Then I dash up the stairs and close the door so she won't hear me cry.

* * *

I'm sitting in Latin class, tapping my pencil on the edge of my desk. Next to me, Merida looks jittery, like she'd rather be running around outside. I'm not surprised. From what I've gathered, she's an adventurous type, with a flair for adrenaline. Besides, who wouldn't want to be outside on a nice day like this?

_Not that it matters, _whispers the pesky little voice in my head. _It's not as if you'll get to go enjoy it._

There's just a few minutes left before the bell rings, and our teacher, Miss Thompson, introduces our first project for the year. "You don't have to start just yet, but be thinking about it, because it's due next Friday. That gives you…let's see… ten days. You will be working in pairs." Merida glances at me, and I nod in silent agreement. She smiles.

Miss Thompson continues. "You will be researching all twelve of the Roman Olympian gods. I expect a brief paragraph about each one, plus a drawing that portrays them all. I'm not asking for a masterpiece, but I want you to try." When she says this, she looks pointedly at Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who are currently making spitballs in the back row. "All work will be done outside of class, so you should figure out times for you and your partner to get together."

The bell rings, cutting her off. I grab my bag, and set off with Merida toward the school gym. It's nice to have a friend. Not that I didn't talk to anyone before, but in a town like this, where everyone's known everyone since kindergarten, it's hard to make my way in. But Merida's new, so she's more isolated than I am.

"Get ready to run," she says as we're walking.

"Ugh, I totally forgot. The mile's today, isn't it?"

"Yup. Shouldn't be too bad, though."

"I guess. I don't know. I'm not used to running. I don't get out much."

"Ah. Pity. I like running. Takes my mind off things. I'm just not crazy about doing it in the company of all these…"

"Ruffians?" I supply. She laughs.

"Exactly."

We walk in and go to the locker room to change. After putting on a t-shirt and shorts, I put my hair into a braid that reaches my knees. I like my hair, but sometimes I wish Mother would let me cut it shorter. It tends to get in the way rather often. Merida somehow pulls her fiery mane into a bun, a feat that never ceases to amaze me. Only a one short curl at the front escapes, but it looks cute.

The class meets in the middle of the wood floor. Once Coach Gobber takes attendance and everyone is present, we go outside to the track. Everyone starts at his whistle. I pace myself, trying to keep my breathing steady. A few minutes in, I'm toward the back, but not dead last. That position belongs to Hiccup.

A figure clad in blue dashes past me. It's Jack, who doesn't appear to be tiring or even breaking a sweat, which is surprising when he's still wearing a sweatshirt and long pants. He's fast, too. Really fast. Even Snotlout, who prides himself on being a hardcore jock, looks envious of Jack.

When I finish, my time is 11:32. I plop down next to Merida, breathing heavily. She finished way before I did, unsurprisingly, and barely looks winded. Hiccup is the last one, finishing just a minute or so after me, and about in the same shape. Coach Gobber pats him on the back pityingly, and he's about to skulk off by himself when Merida calls him over to sit with us. At first he looks uncertain, but his expression becomes grateful. His green t-shirt hangs off his skinny chest, and his bangs are partially sticking to his forehead from sweat.

"So," Merida ventures, "running not your thing?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. Unless you count running away from my pigheaded cousin. But he usually caught me anyway." Merida and I both chuckle.

"Don't feel bad. I'm no good at the whole 'sports' thing either." I say consolingly. "Besides, you don't need to be good at sports when you're good at something else."

"There's my problem," he replies. "I'm not."

"Oh, come on. Everyone's good at _something._ What do you like to do?"

"Um… well… I'm good at math and stuff, I guess."

"Right," Merida chimes in. "You've got the best grades in our entire class."

"Well sure, if you want to make me sound like a _total_ nerd."

"Hey! Embrace it! You could be like my dad. He was the biggest geek in high school, but now he's—" Merida stops abruptly, as though catching herself. For a moment she looks panicked, but then clears her throat and regains her composure. "He's, uh, he's got a good job in programming."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind," replies Hiccup, with a slight questioning glance.

Coach Gobber blows his whistle, and tells us we're dismissed to go change back into our regular clothes. Before I go back into the locker room, I see him pulling Jack aside.

"That was the fastest mile time I've seen in twenty years of coaching. Why aren't you on the cross-country and track teams?"

Jack shrugs. "I don't know. The whole 'team' part… it's just not exactly my thing."

"Well, you should consider it. I'm sure if you ask Aster, he'll tell you all about it."

"Sure. I'll, uh, get on that." As he walks away, he mumbles something under his breath, but I don't quite catch it. As he comes closer, I dash into the locker room before he sees me.

It doesn't take long to slip back into my dress and sandals and spritz on some perfume. I tug on my braid, debating whether to let it down or leave it up. For the sake of time, I let it be. Merida has liberated her red curls, which bounce perfectly into place. She's wearing her usual beat-up jeans and a pair of flip-flops, with a t-shirt for a band I've never heard of.

"So," she says, "this Latin project. When and where do you suppose we should meet?"

I tug my hair nervously. "Um… I don't know." This is going to be difficult. I can hardly imagine that Mother will be pleased about meeting with someone outside of school.

"What about Monday?" she suggests. "There's no school."

"Wait- there isn't?"

"Nope. I forget why, but we're off."

"Okay, sounds good!" It's perfect. I'll just leave the house at the usual time, and Mother won't suspect a thing. "Do you want to meet at your house?"

"Er…" Now Merida looks nervous. "I guess so. Would we not be able to do it at your house?"

"Sorry. My mom is, uh, working on something and won't want to be bothered."

"Oh… okay. I suppose that's fine. See ya tomorrow." She walks away, briskly.

_Curious, _I think to myself. _What does Merida have to hide?_


End file.
